


Conquer All

by chiiyo86



Series: Conquer All [1]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Curses, Love Confessions, M/M, POV First Person, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 12:54:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16284977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiiyo86/pseuds/chiiyo86
Summary: Really, Percy should know better than to mouth off to gods. Especially when he isn't the only one to suffer the consequences.





	Conquer All

**Author's Note:**

> This started as an idle snippet written to distract me from writing a longer, plotty Percy/Nico fic. Then I realized I'd never tried Percy's first person POV, so I rewrote it and fleshed it out, until it became what it is now. Did the world need another Percy/Nico sex pollen fic? I don't know, but here it is. Hope you enjoy it!

Somewhere along the line, mouthing off to the gods had kind of become my trademark. It was reckless; it was stupid. I even knew it, most of the time. Believe me, I never woke up in the morning thinking, ‘Hey, today I’m going to insult a god! There won’t be any unfortunate consequences at all!’ It’s just that I tend to run my mouth when I’m pissed off. And man, but the gods had a way of getting under my skin, with the way they regarded demigods as either their handymen or free entertainment. I’d almost died multiple times for them, in various creative ways. I’d fought two wars before the age of seventeen, and the second one had only just finished. Sometimes, in my darkest moments, I could even admit that my own dad wasn’t any better than the rest of them, if the myths were to be believed. I didn’t like to dwell on the thought, though. He was my dad, and no one likes to think that their parent is kind of an asshole. 

So I guess I shouldn’t have told Aphrodite that she was a ‘meddling witch.’ My bad. _Mea culpa_ , as my friends the Romans would say. But she was getting on my nerves, asking all kinds of questions about my relationship with Annabeth, making insinuations, and getting really, really personal about it, if you catch my drift. Frankly, her interest in my love life was really creepy, and I didn’t think that being the goddess of love was any kind of excuse. I’d been holding my tongue for a while, because she was my friend Piper’s mom and, as a rule, I try not to be too much of a dick to my friends’ parents. My mother brought me up right.

She reacted to my insult by laughing. It wasn’t a reassuring kind of laugh, and she might act like an airhead, but I knew better than to underestimate her. Still, I didn’t realize quite how screwed I was until I was walking through camp and was hit by a dizzy spell so strong that for a moment I wasn’t sure what was up and what was down. It passed, but a cloud of other symptoms crept up on me: I was too hot, sweating buckets, my vision was fuzzy and my dick suddenly hard enough to pound nails. I’d known my fair share of spontaneous erections throughout my teenage life. Boners were like pimples, popping up at the most troublesome moments. It had never felt anything like this. I could barely walk—and no, I’m not trying to make a ‘har har, my dick is so big’ joke here—could barely _think_ , tormented by a need that was pain and emptiness, and, I was certain of it, was going to kill me if I didn’t do something about it. I cupped my hard dick, then started stroking it before I knew what I was doing, until a small, still sane part of me realized that I was about to masturbate in the middle of camp, out in the open.

I stumbled down the path toward my cabin. I needed help, and I should have gone to the Big House and asked for Chiron, but my lizard brain equated the cabin with ‘home’ and ‘safe’ and ‘dad’, and my conscious, rational mind had given up on me and hung up the ‘we’re closed’ sign. Somehow, I felt like if I could reach the cabin, I would magically be okay. This is the sort of stupid thing you think when you’re in pain. On my way there, though, I heard someone call my name.

“Percy?”

It was Nico di Angelo, a blurry spot dark as a thundercloud in the cheerfully sunny day. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, sounding worried.

I wasn’t okay, and his concern drew me to him like a beacon in a stormy night. It was hard to say whether Nico counted as my friend or not, because we had a fraught history and these days he tended to act as though he couldn’t stand me, but the lizard brain part of me that was now entirely in control knew that Nico would help me. I limped over to him, half-huddled on myself in a supremely awkward way. I tried to say his name, but I couldn’t speak, so I shoved him at the wall of the nearest cabin. I know how bad it sounds, but at the time it felt like the only thing I could do. I pushed him up against the wall, pressing my forearm across his chest. Nico made a sound of surprise, then narrowed his eyes at me.

"What in Hades are you do—"

I crushed my mouth against his, as much a kiss as a gesture of restraint, swallowing the rest of his sentence. My hands, which had been shaking uncontrollably, stilled when they came into contact with his cool skin. My dick, constrained in my jeans, felt like it was about to burst—not in a metaphorical way, but it a very real, gore-y kind of way. My head was swimming, my surroundings blurry and distorted, like a reflection in a mirror at the funhouse. 

“Percy,” Nico said in a breathy voice when I stopped kissing him. His eyes were wide, a ring of white around the irises, and they flitted quickly. “Something’s—there’s something very wrong with you. What happened? I can help you, but you have to let go of me.”

“I need—” It was so hard to think. My mind was too feverish to muster a sentence, but I had the nagging urge to try anyway. “Let me, just let me—"

“Percy, get off me, or I will—”

He tried to shove me away but I pushed harder, pressing my whole body against his so that I was draped over him. He shuddered violently and went limp in my grasp. He felt so alive under me, thrumming with vitality. I could feel his heart pound, his chest heave with his breaths, his dick swell inside his jeans. He was thin and bony, a skinny-ass kid, but I felt muscles too under his t-shirt. Desire was a hole being born into my skull. I was panting like a dog on a too hot day, no shred of dignity left in me.

“Nico, please,” I said. “ _Help me._ ”

Nico’s sharp intake of breath was the only answer I needed to kiss him again, artlessly, brutally. I fumbled with the zipper of my jeans, opened them and gave myself a stroke, my eager dick jumping in my hand, then unzipped Nico’s jeans too and aligned our hips. Our hard dicks rubbed against each other and something went off in my head. It was like an explosion with no sound, no fire, no blast, and only I could feel it, but it blew up my mind into pieces. I kept Nico pinned to the wall, one arm on his chest, while my other hand slipped under his t-shirt, hungry for the feel of his skin, Underworld-cool, which seemed to soothe the fire inside me. I stopped kissing him and just rutted against him like an animal, chasing my orgasm with increasing desperation. I hid my face in the crook of Nico’s neck and I had the sound of his ragged breathing in my ear, his gasps, his half-strangled moans. Every noise he made drove me even crazier. Sweaty tendrils of his hair tickled my face. It felt so good, _so_ good, and I was consumed by the need for more but couldn’t make my body move properly, like a puppet with half of its string cut.

When I came, it felt like stepping on naked wire. My vision whitened. Every sound was drowned under a shrill ringing noise. My hand spasmed and gripped Nico’s side with bruising force. I tried to straighten up and knocked my head against his nose. Suddenly, everything came back into focus. The haze of lust had dissipated with my orgasm, leaving me empty and numb, my body feeling like it wasn’t my own but an instrument used in a terrible crime. My jeans were open, my underwear sticky with come, and I was torn between wanting to straighten my clothes and to take them off so I could scrub my skin raw. I felt gross, and not just because of the drying come. I was back to myself and everything was terrible. What did that mean, though, being back to myself? I hadn’t felt like I wasn’t myself, one moment earlier. I hadn’t felt like someone else was driving the wheel. I was Percy, and I remembered doing the things I’d just done in the same way I remembered brushing my teeth this morning. 

“Nico,” I said, feeling awful that I’d forgotten about him for a second. 

I reached out for him, but he flinched and I dropped my hand. He was my mirror image: his pants unzipped, his t-shirt wrinkled, his face blotched and his lips red and swollen. Had it been the first time he’d done anything sexual with someone else? I didn’t know why it would make it worse if it had, but it felt worse. Acid burned my insides, a feeling worse than shame, worse than guilt eating at them. _Of course_ Nico wouldn’t want me to touch him. Not after I had—after I’d—

“I’m sorry,” I said.

Nico had half-turned away to zip up his jeans, but he gave me a look over his shoulder. “Sorry,” he said. He made a sound that I only belatedly identified as a laugh. “Of course you’re sorry.”

“I—”

 _I didn’t mean to_ , was what I wanted to say. I wanted to say that it had been Aphrodite’s fault, but how would that change anything for Nico? I didn’t matter _why_ or _how_. It only mattered that I’d done it. I’d _assaulted_ him. It had happened so fast that he hadn’t been able to defend himself—he was as powerful as they came, so surprise, the kind that made you freeze up, was the only reason that could explain why he hadn’t wiped the floor with me. But Nico defending himself or not didn’t change the facts. It didn’t make me less of a…. My mind shirked away from the word. People have a series of labels that they apply to themselves. I was a boy. I was a son of Poseidon. I was a good sword man. I was a mediocre student. I was a smartass, sometimes. I was a loyal friend, or at least I liked to think so. Now I could add _rapist_ to the list. 

I had no excuse, but I still felt like I had to explain to Nico what had happened. “I kind of—insulted Aphrodite, and I think she cursed me. I didn’t—shit, I didn’t know _that_ would happen.”

“A curse,” Nico echoed, his expression completely blank. I would have given a drachma for his thoughts; it made me nervous that I had no idea what was going through his mind. “Right. It makes sense, now.”

He dropped his eyes and licked his lips. It was a quick flash of the tongue, easy to miss, but the sight made something stir low in my gut—a spark of renewed lust, immediately followed by nausea. What in Tartarus was wrong with me?

“You’re—probably not going to want anything to do with me, like, ever again,” I said. I had no right to feel that miserable, but I had to swallow a few times before the lump in my throat let me speak. “You already didn’t like me very much—”

“You think I don’t like you?” Nico said very quietly.

He looked up, staring at me straight in the eye. I don’t think I could ever forget the way he looked at me then. It was like when I’d been hit by the _arai_ curses in Tartarus, suffering through the deaths I’d inflicted on monsters. It was like something I’d killed rising up and looking at me. He’d stepped back, and at first I thought he was only trying to put some distance between us but then I saw that his leg was already half-swallowed by a pool of shadows. 

“Nico, wait—”

“You don’t get it. It’s not that I don’t like you, it’s—”

The shadows swathed around Nico’s body in a possessive embrace and he melted into them, like a drop of blood in a pool of ink. I thrust one hand out, wanting for some stupid reason to hold him back, but my fingers grasped at nothing. Nico was gone, leaving only the echo of his last words behind him. 

_—that I like you too much._


End file.
